


Songs

by GroovyKat



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/M, soul bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GroovyKat/pseuds/GroovyKat
Summary: Inspired by the fic Songbird by Aelwyn and it is very very important that you read that one before you partake in this one or this makes zero sense (and it is so worth it, just saying, as it is brilliant)Brax has only heard his Soulmate sing twice inside his mind.  convinced he's being rejected, he finally gives up.....
Relationships: Irving Braxiatel/Romana II
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Songs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aelwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Songbird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313870) by [Aelwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/pseuds/Aelwyn). 



> I'm still not over TW4 .... I don't know that I ever will be ....
> 
> Written for Aelwyn, who was definitely acting as my muse this afternoon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy

Irving Braxiatel stared into the bathroom mirror over the sinks in the washroom of the panopticon. As he washed his hands, he focused on the arch of his brow and the piercing blue eyes that peered out from underneath them as he lightly sang an off-world tune.

It was the twentieth different style of song in less than half as many days. Different types of song, of all genres, of varying planetary origins. All of them specifically chosen by him in the hope that at least one of them might draw an acknowledgement of some kind from the one at the other end of the tether that connected their souls.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a mental swat to tell him to give it a rest and just stop. Whoever it was that held onto his soul was shutting him out completely. There was no way that she couldn’t have guessed who stood at the other end of their tether. His voice was one of the most well known voices across the entire capital … across Kasterborous … across all of the Temporal Powerhouses of the universe. He sang in the same tone and timbre he used whenever he spoke. His identiy was the easiest of all puzzles to solve.

…Which made her rejection of their bond very deliberate.

He blinked slowly at his own reflection. He was not unattractive. He was successful. He was respected. He would be …. A good provider.

“I would give you everything you could ever wish for,” he said on a low, rumbling voice toward his own reflection, then huffed. She wouldn’t hear his voice, why bother complaining? He paused a moment, then let one very corner of his mouth curl up in a smile, then cleared his throat and sang those same words in a style of song pulled from the most folksy and artistic quadrant of Gallifrey.

“But if you’re not interested in what I have to offer, then I bid you adieu and wish for you the very best... Whomever you are.”

He looked downward and flicked his wet hands twice in the basin to shake off the bulk of the water he’d held inside his cupped hands. Without another look at his own reflection, he snatched a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped his hands dry with angry, frustrated movements.

That anger and frustration shifted into his voice as he shifted from words and into a low hum of an almost jaunty-style classical composition from Earth. He continued that clearly annoyed attitude as he shifted between a hum and a thrum thrum thrum sound of voice.

He was met with the piercing blue eyes of the Time Lord President when he stepped into the corridor. Romana stood barely three feet away from the doorway to the bathroom, and he was forced to stop short to prevent colliding with her.

“My lady President,” he greeted with his usual bravado to hide the coldness that had settled quite firmly within him. 

She replied with a breathy recital of his name. Her stature, although almost a full foot shorter than his impressive height, felt as though she loomed high above him, and in an odd way, she felt as though she were looking upon a man who was mere inches tall. Such was the slouch in his shoulders and the icy stare within his eyes.

“Is everything alright, Brax?” she queried with a pinch in her eyes and a light backward pull in her shoulder to draw herself from his rather magnetic gravitational pull.

He softened his gaze with what appeared to be great effort and offered her one of his most brilliant smiles – the one with the ability to capture and enchant, but never one to be trusted.

“My Lady, what reason could I possibly have not to be alright.” He dipped his head in a light bow to step past her. “Now if you will excuse me, and there is nothing you require of me, I must depart. I have a meeting to attend.”

She nodded quickly. There was a pull and a crease between her brows, but she offered him a smile of her own. “Of course, Cardinal. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Thank you,” he said with a light smile and another tip of his chin in a respectful parting gesture. “My Lady.” He then shifted his eyes to the front and strode onward. His lips pursed outward to _thrum thrum thrum_ one of Beethoven’s masterpieces.

Romana swallowed and watched him depart, his voice singing deeply inside her mind. A shudder rocked from her shoulders to her feet as she realised that no longer was Braxiatel simply sad. Now he seemed to be angry….

…And angry was when Braxiatel tended to become very dangerous….

Underneath a breath and in a voice that was no more than a whisper, she sang a lullaby in the hope of soothing his clearly aching soul.

His fast forward stride stopped abruptly. Braxiatel stood still in place a moment with his head tilted to one side and his eyes closed in a gentle manner as he listened to the whisper inside his mind.

Romana swallowed thickly. “Don’t give up on me,” she sang in only a whisper. “We just can’t. Not yet.”

His head dropped forward and he rubbed tiredly at his brows a moment. Then with a deep inhale that held a sound of pained resignation, he lifted his head and continued forward. 

“I’m sorry, Brax,” she intoned on a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

~~ooOOOOoo~~

The array of blinking lights ahead of her danced in a manner of grave warning. Her analytical mind quickly ran through any and all scenarios that might lead her toward a place of victory; toward a timeline where she just might be able to walk away from this…

…even if it meant walking away with a new face…

Frustratingly, there seemed no pathway toward victory and survival. Her eyes lifted toward the monitor that stood like a huge bay window that looked out into the expanse of space that lay ahead of her. This ship no longer had any form of forward propulsion. The suicide pilots of this craft had originally intended for it to race through the atmosphere of Gallifrey to crash land in an extinction-level event upon the planet’s surface. Such were the levels to which the animosities between Pedrax and Gallifrey had escalated. Narvin and his CIA operatives had cleared the deck of the pilots and engineers to return them to Gallifrey for trial. Romana had remained on board to divert the craft and hopefully save the planet from destruction – much to Narvin’s incessant complaint and frustration.

Argue though he might, however, the deputy CIA Coordinator really had no voice in the matter. Although no longer President, she still ranked higher than the once-was coordinator. She had ordered him to leave, and not to come back.

He was a smart man. He knew better than to push it further. 

Romana stood as Coordinator of the Agency, this task belonged solely to her. When she was President of Gallifrey, she would have expected Narvin to be the one standing in this rather perilous position of facing imminent demise in order to protect the innocent people below. How could she not expect herself to do the same?

Then again, how could she expect herself to be the one to do it?

A claxon sounded from above, and she shook herself from her musings. If these were to be her last moments, then it was best that she didn’t waste time lamenting about how these were how she would spend her last hours. No. she wouldn’t wallow in any such manner. She would take control of this vessel, steer it toward empty space, and let it explode in an area that not even a whisper of the shockwave would tickle against Gallifrey’s transduction barrier.

Determined now, Romana licked at her lip and let her fingers dance across an alien keyboard to input new navigational coordinates. The craft rumbled at rattled all around her. Heat from overheating systems and controls whipped madly at her hair and cheeks. She was in the final few moments on this side of the Matrix now, and she set her hands on the console top to prepare herself for the end.

A light tune of a song she once heard on her travels with the Doctor lightly blew in a whistle from between her pursed lips. The sound of the whistle made her smile, and before long she found herself singing along to the TARDIS-inspired soundtrack inside her mind.

Her voice may have been out of tune and strangled by fast rising dehydration, but she no longer cared. This was a concert for one, and these ears weren’t quite as discerning as she had everyone believe they were.

Her words paused and her mind filtered toward a man who would no doubt wish to be a concert-goer to her rather poor vocal range and inability to carry a tune.

..And he’d no doubt revere every single poorly executed trill and roll of her tongue around alien words.

She opened her mind out wide ahead of her, expanding it with a reach that extended far beyond the barrier of time that surrounded her home. She drew in a deep breath and lifted her head to sing the song long and loud up toward the ceiling of the craft.

She truly had no real idea about what the words of the song truly meant – human poetry could be subjective and open to interpretation – but she put all that she had left inside her into the song. If Braxiatel only ever got to hear her sing once, then let it be when she was wholly invested in letting him hear her voice inside his mind.

“Here I am, Brax,” she sang out loud with a smile on her face. “I hope I have your attention.”

Around the sounds of the claxon clanging from above, the cloister bells chiming, and the zap and pop of electronics all giving up one after another, a haunting sound began to whine across the command deck. Romana tried hard not to focus on the sound, and of the tricks she knew her mind was playing with her in her final moments in corporeal form. She merely clenched her eyes a little more tightly together and put more of her efforts into the song, practically screeching it to be heard over every thing else around her.

The quiet whine shifted into a long keening sound that seemed to demand her full attention. Romana lowered the volume of her singing to a more polite volume and turned around to face a tall cylindrical time capsule that pulsed in and out of this reality.

The capsule lacked the markings of a CIA-operated capsule. It was not a battle model, nor a Presidential craft. It was plain, unremarkable, and a model at least a century old. She gulped in curiously as the doors opened, and the somewhat curious face of Irving Braxiatel popped out of the open doorway. His expression of curiosity shifted toward one of panic at the command deck falling apart all around him.

“What the…?”

“Brax!” Romana called in a tone that was part for his attention, but was mostly relief. “Over here?”

His attention immediately snapped toward her, then locked tight. He held out his hand to her. “Well, Romana? Don’t just stand there. Come on, then!”

Romana raced forward, ducking underneath fallen beams and leaping over panel covers and cables that littered the floor. She reached for him after one final skip over a fallen beam and snatched his waiting hand in hers. She called his name softly when she felt his fingers lock tight around hers and tug her roughly toward him. Very quickly she found herself pulled up tight against his chest, and he leaned around her to close the door of his capsule.

And as quickly as she was in his arms, she was released. Braxiatel quickly strode away to move toward the console of his ship. He didn’t so much as look in her direction as he piloted them safely off the ship and into safe space beyond the reach of the shockwave.

“Were you able to pilot the ship to a location where it’s destruction won’t cause any collateral damage?” he asked firmly, his voice all business.

“Yes,” she answered with her own brand of business guarding her tone. “The debris will cause a small pocket of trouble for anyone passing through the area. It might be an idea for the Traffic Control teams to send out a memo to that effect.”

Braxiatel nodded slowly. His eyes were still on the console in front it him, but he wasn’t toggling or commanding any of the ship’s systems. “I’ll see to it that’s arranged, then.”

Romana watched him for a short moment. Her posture and the seat of her shoulders were rigid and guarded as she braced herself for a discussion with him about how theirs was a coupling that could never be, but as she considered him; as she considered everything they had ever been together; of all his last minute saves and his loyalty and sacrifice, that guardedness began to falter. This was a man who was as guarded and as private as she was. He was manipulative, he was untrustworthy, he was a rude and often tactless creature…

…But he was also fiercely dedicated to her. He had unwavering confidence in her. He was the only person who would endlessly protect her, and never give up on her. In this entire universe, the only one who would never, ever, give up on her, and would always only ever see in a positive light, was Braxiatel.

And together, they were a force to be reckoned with. They were when she first started out in politics, they were when she raced through a rise to the very top of society, and when she struggled to hold that position.

The pedestal he held her on was such that she could see the heavens and all eternity. An now that he knew who she was to him, that their souls were bound almost as one, that pedestal would only rise higher.

And damn him. She wanted him on that pedestal right beside her.

“Brax…” she managed almost weakly.

“How long have you known?” he questioned quickly by response. 

“Brax…”

“How long?” he demanded hotly. Now, he turned to face her. Anger was in his features, but the could see the pink lining of his pained blue eyes that held hurt within them. Hurt that very much fueled the anger he was projecting.

“Long enough,” she admitted softly.

He drew in a deep breath and nodded his head. “I see,” he muttered with a turn back to the console. “And so…”

She knew exactly where he was going and cut him off before he could say what was on his mind. “It wasn’t the right time,” she said quickly. “We couldn’t, Brax. You – of all people - have to understand that.”

He let out a humourless laugh. There was an argument on his tongue, but he chose to let it lay where it was. There was no sense at all in fighting about it. What Romana wanted, Romana got…. And when she didn’t want it, it was thrown to one side and ignored.

He sniffed hard and straightened up to his full height. He made a show of taking control of his ship. “We’ll be materialising at the Capitol in a moment. You are safe, Coordinator.” He smirked, but still didn’t look a t her. “Well. For now at the very least. You aren’t exactly one for staying out of trouble.”

She didn’t like the smooth way in which he was able to school his emotions like he was. She knew beyond doubt that he had a thousand questions and even more emotions to sort through to understand why she’d held him off as she’d done. Propriety for one ….

…Fear and unworthiness another…

“Just like that, then?” she asked him quietly. “Pick me up, and drop me off?”

He turned to look at her again. There was clear frustration inside the sadness in his eyes. “What else will you have me do, Romana?”

“Talk to me, Brax,” she demanded quietly. “Yell at me. Demand to know why I shut you out like I did…”

“I understand,” he replied flatly.

“How?” she questioned in a tiny voice.

His eyes pinched and he strode toward her. His hands thrust into his trouser pockets as he walked and balled into tight fists against his thighs. It was clear he was holding back, but he remained resolutely calm. “I understand,” he repeated. 

“How?” she demanded again. “How can you understand it when I don’t have a clue, myself.”

He stood close enough to her that their chests were only a foot apart. His smile was not as condescending as he was trying for it to be and the look he gave her as his looked down to meet eyes with hers was anything but unfriendly. “Because I know you better than you know yourself. I always have.” He exhaled slowly and took his eyes from her to look off to one side. “I know more about you than I do myself, actually.”

“So. So you knew we were….” She shifted her hand in between them. “That we were bound?”

His head shook. “Until I saw you standing on a command deck that was falling apart all around you, and heard your broken song, I had no idea. In six centuries, I’ve heard your song twice…. The last time over five hundred years ago before you and I had ever met.”

“And how…” she gulped in a very out of character manner, her insecurity and unease filling her far too quickly. “Are you disappointed?”

One hand lifted from his pocket and rose toward her face. With tender movement, he used the very tips of his fingers to draw her fair from her face. His eyes watched the movement of his hand and the movement of blonde hair through his fingers. “Are you?”

“I never have been,” she admitted with a soft voice. 

His eyes flicked to meet hers. “Then why?”

“Reasons that make no sense at all,” she answered with a light shrug. She lifted her hand to cover his. She leaned into his touch, only briefly closing her eyes to enjoy the light warmth it offered her. “None of it makes sense.”

Boldened just slightly, he dared tilt his head down to hers. He was close to hesitant when his nose lightly bumped against hers, moreso when he felt her breath against his lips. He drew in a breath to speak her name and ask permission to close the short gap between them. His breath hitched when he felt the merest touch of her against his mouth.

“And now?” he questioned.

Romana din’t let her voice answer his question. She chose to lift her arms around his neck and pull him down to her instead. She claimed the softness of his mouth with only the smallest of rise onto her toes. He met her as easily as she had risen toward him. As they opened to each other with a parting of lips and deep tilt of their heads, the bare and fraying threads of a suppressed and rejected bond snapped into place.

Both of them elicited long moans of pleasure within their kiss, bathing in the new sense of completion for a long moment before finally separating. Their breaths were shortened and their chests heaved in unison as they pressed their foreheads together.

After a short moment, Braxiatel’s shoulders began to shake with what appeared to be light laughter.

She didn’t pull back from him, but managed to look into his eyes with concern. “Brax? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered with his amusement rising just slightly.

“Really,” she pushed with concern. “What is it?”

He stepped back and let his head hang just slightly as he let the chuckles ebb away. “Romana. I have admired you and just how brilliant you are ever since you were a cadet back at the academy. I have honestly and without a doubt wholly believed that you would excel at anything you attempted, that there was nothing you could not be able to do with absolute precision.”

Her brows pulled together in confusion. “Okay?”

“I truly believed that, Romana. Believed it without a doubt at all…” He paused. “Until today.”

She blinked at him with confusion. “I’m at a loss to understand what you’re talking about, Brax. Today I did everything I had set out to do – and executed those duties to perfect precision. I can’t see just where you’re finding fault.” She frowned. “Nor why you find it so amusing and had to bring it up at this moment, when I have bared my soul to you and accepted your bond.”

“Oh, I don’t consider this a fault, Romana,” he assured her with a smile. “In fact, I find it perfectly adorable.”

“I am not adorable, Brax.”

“You are,” he corrected with a smile. “As is your very pitchy and unpleasant way of song.”

Her eyes blew wide and her jaw fell open. “Oh no…”

He gave her a wink and a smile. “My dear Lady Romana. You’re an absolutely terrible singer.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Doctor who or any of their characters ... I make no money off this and am just writing here because it's a fun thing to do.


End file.
